24: The Race Against Time
by thedriveintheatre89
Summary: It's the final race of the new Piston Cup season, and Lightning McQueen has been waiting all his life for this day. Too bad it was the day Jack Bauer was in town... Buckle up, cos' Lightning and Co. are about to experience the "longest day of their lives
1. 6:00 AM to 7:00 AM

Greetings fellow fanfic writers! This is **Andre**, aka **The Drive-in Theatre**, with his debut piece, featuring an action-packed crossover fanfic between the Disney/Pixar movie Cars and the Fox Network's TV show 24.

I happen like both Cars and 24, as well as a general car chase fan. So I thought to myself: What if Jack Bauer was a automobile in the world of Cars? Who would be the villians? What if all the residents of Radiator Springs and the racing world were put through, as J.B. calls it, "the longest day" of their lives? What would be a suitable plot? How will the characters interact with each other? _Why hasn't anyone attempted this before_?

I guess the answer to the last question is because it's just _insane_ and that nobody would even think of such a combination. Which sounded great to me. So I put a challenge to myself, to mash the two seemingly disparate worlds of the Disney movie and the Fox TV show, and see whether I can pull it off.

The result of this mash is what you'll read below. I always thought of myself as a fairly decent writer, so this will be the ultimate test, so to speak.

The format for this rendition of a real-time episode goes like this: Jack's usual introduction of the time period opens every chapter. Whenever there's a venue change, the name of the place will preceed the portion of that story in italics. Running reminders of the current time will be in bold and will show 3 seconds, while ad breaks will be denoted by two series of 4 seconds (usually 5 minutes apart to indicate the break) in bold. A summary of the ongoing plots will be displayed in the climax during the final minutes, with each place written in italics again. Lastly, the final countdown to the end of the hour will be the last 4 seconds in bold. Once you read it, you'll figure it all out anyway.

Before we begin, I would like to take the opportunity to give a shout-out to my other creative pursuits. I own a channel on Youtube called 'thedriveintheatre89', where I post film music videos and my own special brand of parody trailers. You can also see me on the Pixar Planet and Varaces forums, where I indulge my animation and car chase interests respectively. I'm also considering getting a DeviantArt account for more artistic 'pursuits', so to speak.

Few final notes of disclaimer. I DO NOT OWN Cars or 24. They solely belong to Disney/Pixar Animation Studios and Fox Entertainment Network respectively. I only claim copyright over fan-made characters such as Yuri, Pierre Mot, Sarah, Bill, Ethan and Takashi.

And now, fasten your seatbelts, folks. The longest day of Lightning McQueen and the rest of Radiator Springs is about to begin. Let's start the clock...

**The following takes place between 6:00 AM and 7:00 AM.**

_The Cozy Cone Motel, Radiator Springs_

The sun peeked out over the tailfin peaks of Cadillac Range. Its rays slowly washed over the valley below, gradually illuminating the arid Arizona desert. From total darkness, the sky changed to a creamy magenta, to an eventual pale blue. Dawn has arrived in the little town of Radiator Springs, and with it a brand new day full of possibilities.

A light azure Porsche 911 blinked her eyes open. With a yawn and a stretch of her tires, Sally Carrera drowsily opened the door to her cone and rolled out onto the driveway.

Over at the Army Surplus Hut, Sarge took a deep breath. Nothing like rising early in the morning to greet a brand new day. He blew on his bugle his usual morning roll call tribute to the now steadily climbing sun in the sky. The star spangled banner chases after the burning orb. The war veteran stood at attention for a few moments. The Jeep always considered himself a patriot, and was proud to serve his country. Strains of Bob Marley drifted through the still morning air. Sarge grumbled; if it was not Jimi Hendrix, it would be a reggae number from that hippy van's old records. He muttered an insult under his breath before lifting the bugle to his lips again to drown out the Rastafarian's crooning.

Sally stood admiring the beautiful sunrise as strains of _Reveille_ echoed across the land. She always liked to watch the sunrise every day. No matter what happens, whether she or anyone else lives or dies today, the sun will always faithfully make its daily journey to the heavens every day. The Porsche smiled.

**6:10:27...6:10:28...6:10:30...**

"Good morning, Miss Sally!" said a cheerful voice.

Sally snapped out of her thoughts and turned to see her old friend, a rusty tow truck.

"Mornin', Mater," she replied.

"Well, it's the big day fer Lightnin'", he commented as the opening chords of Marley's 'One Love' started from Filmore the local hippy's hut.

"Yeah, exciting huh?" answered Sally. "The final race of the new Piston Cup season. 200 laps of pure adrenaline. 500 miles of speed."

"1 heck of a race," a voice said behind them. Lightning grinned at his two friends as he rolled towards them.

"Hey, Stickers," greeted Sally.

"Howdy Lightnin'!" hollered Mater. "You ready fer the most important day of yer life?"

"The most important day of my life..." said Lightning, glancing sideways at Sally, "...was the day I came to this town."

"More like barreled into it," snickered Sally. Ever since the near-kiss a year ago, Lightning and Sally had silently settled on a platonic friendship. They would tease each other every now and then, and do the occasional race to the Wheel Well, but neither party dared made the first move. Sally had convinced herself that she could never be involved in a romantic relationship with a celebrity in the racing circuit. Love was a leap of faith, and she was too scared to jump. She supposed he felt the same way too, with his longing glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. So they settled on being just close pals, and nothing more, much to Mater's disappointment.

"There you are, hotrod!"

Doc Hudson, a royal blue Hudson Hornet, wheeled towards the group. "We need to leave by 8 if we're to make it in time for the pre-race meeting. That gives us a little more than one-and-a-half hour to get ready, while Mack loads up on fuel. It starts at..."

"6:00 pm, I know. Race is at 8. And we need at least 5 hours for the 500-mile ride." Lightning rolled his eyes.

"Maybe more if you want to stop over for lunch and still be early," added Sally.

Mater turned to look at the sun, now bathing the country in a warm golden glow. Sarge's screams mingled with Filmore's drawly protests in the warm morning air.

"Yep, it's gonna be a looong day," he commented cheerfully.

**6:20:14...6:20:15...6:20:16...6:20:17**

**6:25:20...6:25:21...6:25:22...6:25:23**

Morning dew clung to the desert vegetation strewn along the cliff faces a few miles outside Radiator Springs. A lone wooden billboard stood by the side of the road, marking the town limits. Its withering stands creaked and groaned in the wind. The sign displayed a simple shaded outline of a canyon and a cactus plant with the words "Radiator Springs" in bold, followed by a small subtitle "Gateway to Ornament Valley" running along the bottom.

In the distance, a rumble of engines started to approach the billboard, with the loud thumping bass of rap music preceding them. Four cars now appear, hurtling way past the speed limit over the horizon. To local law enforcement officers, and victims of their pranks and misdemeanors, this ragtag group of miscreants were known as the Delinquent Road Hazards, or the DRH for short. Their loud chortles as one of them told a joke pierced through the still morning air.

"And then he said, 'Yes Officer, I was a little over the speed limit. You see my brakes aren't working and I want to get home before I have an accident!" Boost, a grey Mitsubishi Eclipse with rear-mounted nitrous cans and a wide spoiler smiled smugly as he delivered the punchline.

The rest of the gang laughed heartily in appreciation of the good joke.

"Ah...heheheheheh," chuckled Wingo in his trademark staccato laughter. He was a flashy green and purple Nissan Silvia with a six-tiered ladder spoiler. "Hey dudes," he ventured, "I once knew this guy, right...and he musta been going, like, one-fifty tops. Show-off tried to beat a train to a level crossing..."

"Did he get across?" asked Boost.

"Yeah, a lovely marble one!"

The group exploded into guffaws again. Snot Rod, an orange Plymouth Barracuda with side exhaust pipes snickered before erupting into another flame sneeze triggered by the pollen from a nearby cactus.

"Jeez Snot, watch the paint!" chastised DJ, a blue Scion Xb. He changed the disk in the CD rack in his trunk. The bars on the frequency display panel on his side-skirts rose and fall in time as a heavy metal number boomed from his external speakers.

"Hey, check that out, you guys!" yelled Wingo. They had arrived at the billboard, and screeched to a stop.

DJ turned down the volume and stared at the painting. "It's that hick town 'Lightning the Queen' set up his base in!" he proclaimed as realisation dawned on them.

"How about we do them a little favour? I say this sign needs a little 'touching-up' after all those years, huh? What say you, boys?" suggested Boost with a mischevious grin.

"Alright!" whooped Wingo in agreement. "Yo, Snot! Get my paint cans out." Wingo was the most-artistically-inclined of his pals, as evidenced by his neat-looking paint job along his side panels. The quiet muscle car rolled behind Wingo and popped open the Silva's hood, careful not to knock his friend's head with his own ladder spoiler. "It's time this town got a makeover," the artist whispered gleefully.

**6:34:45...6:34:46...6:34:47...6:34:48**

**6:39:27...6:39:28...6:39:29...6:39:30**

A tumbleweed bounces along the deserted highway. On the slowly warming tarmac, a single bird hopped around, searching for worms. It was as plump and round as a tennis ball, devoid of a neck, with its head and body fused together like one fat blob. The bird chirped loudly, its call sounding like a squeaky toy, and began preening its blue feathers, but didn't get too far before it heard a low hum in the horizon. It blinked its wide, saucer-shaped eyes, the three feathers on its head rising in curiosity as the sound steadily grew to a roar. It slowly turned its head upon realising the sound was coming towards it from behind, and fast. The bird barely had time to leap out of the way before a Chevrolet Impala screamed past the spot where it once stood. Chirping indignantly, it flapped its tiny wings (which were amusingly not relative to its body size) and took to the morning sky.

"Woah, nearly made a road pizza outta that one, Bill!" joked a Ford Taurus as she pulled up in line with the Impala.

"Don't worry, I'll go faster next time!" Bill shot back at the Taurus.

"Bill and Sarah, if you both don't keep your eyes on the road, I'll make sure you're the next ones to be served on the tarmac!" growled a gruff voice over their TETRA radios.

"Ten-four, Jack. Sorry for the distraction, won't happen again, sir," replied Sarah. She switched off her radio before turning to Bill.

"Is Mr. Bauer always this serious? You know, when he's not on 'dangerous' missions like this one?"

"He's always serious. When you're CTU's best and most hated special agent at the same time, you can't afford not to be," Bill said to his partner.

"I heard that, Bill."

"Sorry, chief." the Impala replied as he glanced in his rear-view mirror at the slick-top Ford Mustang travelling a mile back.

"Apology accepted," grunted the old muscle car with a weary smile. Jack Bauer was a 1982 Mustang SSP, or Special Service Package, to be precise. When he earned his badge as a young recruit at CTU, or Counter-Terrorism Unit, an elite anti-terrorist government agency, he received an extensive body modification to suit the requirements of a field agent. 5.0 L V8 engine upgrade, 4-speed automatic transmission, a reinforced rollcage, and his very own light beacon. He didn't install the standard lightbar as he had to a lot of undercover assignments, so stealth was vital, at least until he had to arrest the suspects.

"Special agent, eh?" I like the sound of it."

Jack turned to the car cruising next to him, a smirking beige 1970 VAZ-2101. The scratches on his side panels and rusting hubcaps showed signs of his age, but beneath the ancient bodywork lies a youthful mind, quick, agile and ruthlessly merciless.

"Shut up, Yuri. We still got 300 miles to go, and the last thing I want to hear are your wiseguy remarks."

The Lada just grinned in reply. Although diminuitive in size, the Russian vehicle was the exact opposite in criminal stature. As an immigrant from the Soviet Union during the Cold War, Yuri made a living through supplying illegal arms to various organisations around the world; regions such as the Middle East, Africa, Eastern Europe, and South America. Whether it be guerrilla fighters, terrorist factions, or even secret government para-military agencies, he served anyone who wanted weapons to fight their cause. To him, race, religion, idealogies, it all didn't matter. He was just a businessmen, the middlemen who only serves his customers' interests.

Lately, he came into prominence on CTU's radar when he began selling illegal arms to several Middle Eastern terrorist cells who were fighting troops in Iraq. Capturing him became CTU's highest priority, and after several months of investigative work and stake-outs led by Jack Bauer, he was arrested in a sting operation in La Paz two days ago. He is now being transferred from the local county jail to the nearest Arizona State Prison Complex, which was approximately 500 miles from his point of arrest, before being handed over to the Russian authorities. Jack volunteered to be the commander of the five-man convoy, as he had done extensive research on the suspect in the course of his investigation and felt he knew Yuri's every move by heart. Normally such a job would be left to the U.S. Marshals, but he had managed to convince his superiors otherwise. He had a compulsive habit of taking it entirely upon himself to ensure the bad guy is brought to justice, not to mention being a fiercely loyal patriot who will do whatever it takes to protect his country. Even if it meant taking a life, as he had experienced many times before.

**6:50:09...6:50:10...6:50:11...**

"Approaching tunnel, ETA 20 seconds," announced a silver 1990 Peugeot 405, who together with Jack, travelled parallel to Yuri, effectively flanking him.

"Roger that, Pierre," answered Jack. Pierre Mot was a former RAID agent, which was France's equivalent of a counter-terrorist unit. He was assigned to CTU's Field Operations Division as a French inter-agency liason. It was all part of CTU's frequent collaborations with Interpol. Jack didn't know much about the young French saloon, only that he had worked undercover with the Russian mafia and had many underworld ties, which proved invaluable when it came to busting the European crime syndicates.

They had just entered the mile-long tunnel and reached the halfway point before the CB radio chirped to life. "Uh...Jack, we got a suspicious vehicle up ahead. Looks like a curtain sider. Travelling at a constant rate of speed, I've told it twice to give way but it has refused to acknowledge. Recommended course of action?" Bill's voice crackled over the line.

"Keep requesting it to give way. Don't slow down. Ethan, Takashi, stay sharp. Wait my command," Jack responded.

"Copy that," replied a dark blue Land Rover Defender who along with a Toyota Hilux, formed the rear guard of the convoy.

Before Jack could issue the next order, Sarah's panicked voice hissed over the radio.

"Jack, the trailer's turned to block the entire tunnel. I have a bad feeling about this..."

"Alright, all units. Evacuate the tunnel _immediately_! I repeat, turn around, possible ambush in progress," hollered Jack.

The cab, a Peterbilt 379, detached from the trailer. The semi's metals curtains slid open to reveal three Chinese BJ212 Jeeps inside, armed with AK47 assault rifles. Leaping off the trailer's platform, they opened fire as they drove towards the scouts.

"Code red, code red! We're under fire from hostiles, retreat to tunnel entrance now!" yelled Bill as he and Sarah screeched to a halt and put their gears in reverse. Bullets ricocheted off the tunnel walls echoing like marbles rattling in a tin can. The duo pulled a reverse 180 and sped off to the main convoy.

One of the Jeeps pulled a bazooka from his side and aimed at the retreating agents. With a bright flash and leaving behind a trail of smoke, the missile launched from the barrel and raced towards its target. Bill barely had time to register the rapidly approaching cylinder of death hurtling towards him before it slammed into him, instantly detonating and blowing him into the air.

Sarah glanced in her rearview mirror to see her partner flipping forward from the impact before crashing down on his roof in a mangled heap of twisted metal. Engine racing, she shrieked into the radio, "Officer down! Get out of th..." She barely had time to finish her sentence before she got cut down by the machine gun fire.

"Sarah!" yelled Jack. He wheeled around and gunned for the entrance. The Peterbilt had also turned around and was now bearing down on him a few yards behind. He could hear the Jeeps shouting in Mandarin as they relentlessly pursued him...

_Flo's Diner, Radiator Springs_

Mack reverses into Lightning's trailer, coupling with the tow-bar. Once it's hitched, he drags the trailer to go meet Lightning and the rest who are having breakfast by the fuel pumps.

_Welcoming Billboard, Border to Radiator Springs_

The DRH snigger as Wingo spray paints over the letter 'P.' Snot Rod sneezes again.

_Interior of Manifold Tunnel, near Southern Exit_

"_Ah bon_, we've got air support," sighed Pierre in relief as they reached the glowing beacon of light at the end of the tunnel. A Bell-UH-1 Huey chopper suddenly swooped into view and hovered at the entrance, its grenade launcher aimed at them. Jack saw a grenade bounce onto the road in front of Takashi, the rear guard who got out of the tunnel first.

"I don't think that's backup, Pierre," replied Jack.

A huge fireball ripped through the tunnel as an explosion knocked the Hilux into a rollover. He skidded forward on his hood, sparks flying, before Ethan crashed into him, instantly killing them both.

Jack slammed on his brakes, spinning around in a 180 to face the oncoming Peterbilt. He whipped out his USP pistol from his side-skirt holster and shot at the front wheels, puncturing them. The Peterbilt turned sharply to the left on his rims before tipping over onto his side. His forward momentum carried him on, skidding on his side down the road. The Jeeps ahead stopped and turned around to see the massive cab screeching towards them before being knocked aside like bowling pins. Jack and Pierre managed to outrun the ensuing carnage before it caught up with them.

Breathing heavily, Pierre watched the burning wreckage before them. "_Zut_, _zut_, _et zut_!" he muttered.

The two were now at the tunnel entrance, and they turned to the sky as they heard the hum of the helicopter's propellers as it lifted off. While they had been distracted by the pursuing semi and army jeeps, Yuri had sneaked away and boarded the chopper. He now sat expressionless in the cabin,staring down at them as the heli climbed into the clear skies. Burning with rage, Jack lifted his gun and fired at the chopper until he ran out of ammo. One of the rounds managed to hit the fuselage, and oil leaked out of the petrol tank. The Bel flinched and fired another grenade back before flying over the ridge adjacent to the tunnel.

"Get out!" Pierre yelled and shoved Jack out of the tunnel just as the grenade detonated, causing the tunnel entrance to cave in, trapping the Peugeot inside.

"Pierre!" shouted Jack as the dust cleared. He coughed and looked around in bewilderment at the unforgiving desert landscape that now surrounded him. His detainee had escaped, his entire team had been wiped out, and he was on his own. He gritted his teeth and yelled the only curse word he would say in a time like this.

"_DAMMIT_!"

**6:59:57...6:59:58...6:59:59...7:00:00**

So, what do ya think? I know I just can't end the first hour without Jack uttering his trademark cuss word. :) Well, if you thought that was cool, please comment! And tune in next week to see what will Jack do next!


	2. 7:00 AM to 8:00 AM

Hello everyone, and welcome back to our second exciting episode of the all-new season of 24: The Race Against Time. This hour, we have plenty of action in store for the DRH, Yuri the arms dealer, and our hero Jack.

And introducing a new element to the real-time format, the split-screen effect! Everytime you see this symbol:

'/////'

It means that there are two events occurring simultaneously, and that any actions or conversations, irregardless of the order in which they are written, happen in more or less at the same time.

Now that we've got the explaining of this new feature out of the way, it's time to fasten your seatbelts! It's gonna be a bumpy ride...

**The following takes place between 7:00 AM and 8:00 AM.**

The early morning sun beat down gently on the lone 1949 Mercury Club Coupe as he trundled along the road leading back to Radiator Springs. One of the first few residents of the little town, and guardian storyteller of its glorious history and tales, Sheriff (as everyone calls him, since his first name was too difficult to pronounce) was out on his daily morning run. It was part of a new exercise regime he had undertaken every since he was inspired by McQueen and Doc's training sessions. The ancient patrol car smiled. It's about time he got fit again; one too many jelly donuts did not help the stamina of the sole police officer of Radiator Springs. Come to think of it, he was the only form of local law enforcement in the whole of Carburetor County, the nearest metropolitan station being in Kingpin, Arizona, about 60 miles from Radiator Cap. Sheriff pondered over that fact as he turned left at the T-junction and passed the leaning Route 66 'badge' signpost.

He supposed that one advantage rural towns had over the big cities was that generally, the crime rate was low, and the felonies themselves were less severe in nature. Of course, folks would be quick to point out that so was the population density, not to mention the fact that fewer cops around meant that it was easier to get away with an unlawful act. But so far, in his entire career serving as the lawman in this frontier town, Sheriff managed to keep things pretty much under control. He only had to deal with petty stuff like investigating the odd break-in into one of the townspeople's shops, setting up a perimeter in the event of a building fire, escorting Mater back to town as he towed cars who had broken down along the Mother Road, or booking troublemaking illegal racers like the Delinquent Road Hazards...

The patrol car came to a halt. Speaking of which...

In the distance, he saw the very gang of pranksters he was thinking about, caught in their latest act of mischief. He furrowed his windshield as he watched one of the cars, a gaudy Silvia decked with a ladder tower, put the finishing touches on his latest "masterpiece". That piece of work those hoodlums considered 'art' was a sore sight to his eyes. Silently turning on his single light dome, he got ready to make his move.

**7:11:26...7:11:27...7:11:28...**

Wingo cackled as he put away his paint can and stood back to admire his work. He had replaced some of the letters with some of his own (custom-made font, of course), and sprayed over those he wanted omitted. What once read:

RADIATOR SPRINGS

Gateway to Ornament Valley

now said:

RADIAT**i**ng S**t**IN**k**S

a way to Ornery alley

He was pleased with his handiwork, if he did say so himself. Judging by his friends' chuckles, he supposed they felt the same way too.

"Now _that_'s a good sign!" praised Boost as he punched Wingo's side with a tire as a display of approval.

"And _here_'s a bad one! Put your tires out where I can see them!"

The gang spun around to see the Sheriff, their arch-enemy of the law, rolling towards them.

"Well, if it ain't the _She_-riff," taunted DJ, pronouncing the first syllable like the third-person female pronoun.

"What seems to be the problem, Officer?" enquired Wingo, playing innocent.

"You know what's the problem, boy. I caught you vandalising that public billboard there. Yer lucky it's just an infraction which I can't lock you up for. But you're gonna have to pay a fine to the local council," growled Sheriff. "And don't you other punks move a muscle," he added when he saw Snot Rod moving out the corner of his eye.

"Hey man, the way I see it, I'm doing the community a favour. See, I'm giving a much-needed revamp to their boring, old signboard. Needs to reflect their _current_ state of affairs, see," smirked Wingo.

"Don't you diss this town, _man,_" Sheriff retorted as he turned back to face the Silvia. He was furious at the youngster's insult of the town he had grew up in and looked after all his life. The police car slowly popped open his trunk where he kept a parking boot, while he fished for his ticket book under his side skirt. "Now show me those tires! I won't say it again, or I'm gonna cuff you," he ordered.

"Sure thing, officer," answered Wingo as he winked at Boost.

"Hey, I saw that! What was that for?" yelled Sheriff.

"Oh, it's nothing," said Boost calmly. "It just means that we'll split right about..._now_."

And with that last word, the four of them hightailed out of there in different directions, leaving Sheriff rooted to the spot for a few seconds. When he realised what just happened, he took off after Boost the leader. He didn't see the nails that Snot Rod had dropped on the ground earlier when he was not looking, and they took out his left rear tire. He swore as he struggled to keep up, but he soon lost sight of them. He knew it was unlikely there would be any squad cars around to hear him, but he decided to give a call for help anyway.

"This is the Sheriff of Carburetor County, I need backup to apprehend four suspects involving defacement of a public structure, last seen heading West from the Radiator Springs welcome billboard, Route 66. Please respond."

He decided to follow the leader's tire prints and try radioing again sometime later.

**7:22:15...7:22:16...7:22:17...7:22:18**

**7:27:48...7:27:49...7:27:50...7:27:51**

_Somewhere above Cadillac Ranch_

"You know, killing those cops wasn't necessary."

The helicopter snapped out of his thoughts when the Russian car he was transporting made that statement. "That may be unfortunate, but I'm afraid that's all part and parcel of collateral damage," the Bell answered. He frowned, as if pondering something. "I thought you would be used to all this, you know, going to conflict zones and doing business with warlords and all that."

"Yeah, well, just because I provide the means to kill, doesn't mean that I condone it."

"Geez, you must be the wimpiest arms dealer I've ever met," the chopper replied.

They were now flying over a range of rock formations shaped like Cadillac tailfins. As they came over the range and flew down into the valley, Yuri looked down below and saw a small forest, and rising just ahead, a huge mesa shaped like a radiator cap. "I guess you have to do your job, and I do mine. So where's the _rendezvous_?" When he got no acknowledgement, he leaned out of the cabin and glanced at the cockpit, where the helicopter's eyes were. "Did you hear me?"

"I don't feel good, I think that cop just shot my fuel tank. I'm losing fuel...and oil," the chopper croaked weakly.

"What? So now you're _bleeding_?" cried the Russian car as he turned behind to inspect the helicopter's tail. Indeed, the hole torn by Jack's last bullet had ruptured the chopper's fuselage, and oil and gas was gushing out at an alarming rate.

"I can't stay in the air...I feel dizzy," the Bell muttered faintly.

"Stay with me! _Chyort voz'mi_..." the Lada cursed as the helicopter started to spiral out of the sky. They were now rapidly descending over a small town in front of the mesa, and were falling towards a butte that lay East of it. The helicopter's engine began to sputter, then die. The blades were next to go, and they began to plummet to Earth.

The sudden drop in altitude must have startled the chopper from his exhausted stupor, because he was now wide awake and frantically trying to restart the engine. "We're going down!" he shouted the obvious. "Hang on, I'll try to initiate an autorotation sequence!"

"A _what_?" yelled Yuri back, but the Bell was too busy preparing for a controlled descent from their freefall. The internal stability detector was now blaring loudly at a high-pitched whine. They were quickly approaching terminal velocity, and Yuri's fuel tank felt like it was floating. He was experiencing a low-g condition, a sense of weightlessness that came from his rapid vertical descent. Yuri then heard the chopper's freewheeling unit disengage the engine from the main rotor, as the wind whistled through the blades and slowly began to turn them again. "Like a windmill," he thought as they slowly started to decelerate. The butte now loomed large, and the ground was less than fifty feet away and rushing up to meet them.

"Hold on!" the Bell screamed as he pitched his nose up for landing, sending the Lada tumbling into the back of the cabin. A crash landing was imminent. The skids were the first to hit the ground, and they did so with such force that they shattered, sending the helicopter into a rollover onto its side. The tail was sheared off by the impact and Yuri was thrown out of the side door onto the ground. The two skittered over the hard gravel before coming to a stop at the base of the butte.

They lay still for a while as the dust cloud cleared. Yuri was the first to get up, shaking a tumbleweed off him and checking to see he was okay. Aside from a cracked side mirror and a dented hubcap, he was fine. He rolled over to see whether the Bell was alright.

Far from it. Both his skids had broken in half, and his tail lay a few feet away, electrical sparks leaping from it. His body was dented in from the crash, but he was still breathing, albeit faintly.

"Hey, you okay, comrade?" called Yuri. There was no response for a few seconds, then the chopper opened one eye weakly, and nodded. "That was cool...whatever you just...did..." his voice trailing off. There was no further reply. The Russian looked around and spotted a side road leading up the ridge. "I'll just...go get help. You stay here, okay?"

"It's not like I can go anywhere," the battered heli replied.

Yuri ignored the sarcastic remark and sidestepped a crumpled tail blade before making his way out of the basin.

**7:40:10...7:40:11...7:40:12...7:40:13**

**7:45:01...7:45:02...7:45:03...7:45:04**

Jack had been driving for close to an hour now. He had taken an off ramp and was now heading past some rock formations that looked like car hoods. He remembered seeing pictures of them in a guide to the Mojave desert he had read as part of his field-ops theory training. There was a town nearby, if his memory served him right. Maybe he could go there to ask for help. He wished he could call CTU to inform them of the recent change in plans and the escaped convict, but his phone was useless without a nearby signal tower. The absence of technology, out here, in the middle of nowhere, made him feel exposed and defenseless. What he would give to ask Chloe for a thermal satellite scan of the surrounding area... it would make his job of hunting this fugitive much easier.

He was about to try contacting headquarters on his cell again when he spotted a plume of smoke rising from a butte shaped like a hood ornament about a mile ahead of him. A trail of gasoline lead to the source of the smoke. He raced towards the basin as he tried his TETRA radio.

"This is Federal Agent Jack Bauer. Requesting immediate assistance, I'm by..." He consulted his on-board computer, otherwise known as a Mobile Data Terminal, or MDT. "...Willy's Butte." He reached the edge of the ridge and came upon the wrecked Bell chopper. "I've located the bird carrying a wanted fugitive, I repeat, I've got the _helo_." He checked that the coast was clear. "Package is nowhere in sight."

/////

Sheriff happened to receive Jack's transmission, and was intrigued. "This is Sheriff responding. What's your..." But he didn't finish his sentence, because he just spotted Wingo and DJ hiding out in a ditch. The duo saw him at the same time and sped away. The weary old police car groaned and gave chase.

/////

"Hello? This is CTU agent Jack Bauer. Who is is this again? Hello? Dammit," swore Jack. He was going to have to do this himself. He slowly coasted down the rock face and approached the helicopter, gun drawn.

"Don't move!" he yelled. He pressed the barrel against the Bell's nose. "Remember me? I'm that guy who shot your butt in that little tunnel breakout you did back there. Thanks to you, my entire team is dead. Now I'm going to ask you one simple question: 'Where is he?' "

"I don't know who you're talking about, Officer. Don't you need to call for backup or something? I'm bleeding here," the Bell said nonchalantly.

"I don't give a crap, I just want my arms dealer back in custody. _Talk_!" Jack prodded the Bell with his weapon again.

"Look, I don't know where that Russian went. Even if I did, I'm under instructions not to tell you," the heli answered defiantly.

"Alright, you refuse to cooperate, huh?" The helicopter was lying on his side, so Jack wheeled round to the roof and grabbed one of his main rotor blades. He gave it a sharp twist, bending it at an awkward angle. Whatever he did must have caused the heli considerable pain, because he gave a sharp yelp almost immediately. "Where's Yuri? Tell me!"

"Ow ow ow, okay, okay!" whimpered the Bell. "Last I saw him, he headed that way." The chopper pointed with a mangled skid towards the path that led out of the basin. "You might want to hustle, though. The folks who hired me may be after him."

"Who?"

"I dunno. The guy on the line sounded Chinese, that's all I can say."

Jack didn't say anything and started up the ridge.

"Hey!" hollered the Bell. "Are you gonna call an ambulance or what? Hey! Don't leave me here!"

**7:53:53...7:53:54...7:53:55...**

Jack ignored the Bell's screaming protests and made a mental note to try to call CTU again and get someone to pick the injured heli up. Suddenly his radio squawked to life.

"...requesting additional units. Suspects are heading toward the local drive-in theatre."

Jack quickly answered the distress call, recognising the voice. "Agent Jack Bauer here. Where's your ten-twenty? I'm by Willy's Butte. I need ID on vehicles."

/////

Sheriff realised the stranger that contacted him earlier was now offering assistance. He would accept any help that came his way, because right now they were hurtling towards the town, where the hooligans could possibly endanger civilians with their reckless attempts to evade his pursuit.

"Suspects are a gang of illegal street racers. Green Silvia... blue Scion... grey Eclipse... and an orange Barracuda. Two of them are heading to your position now," he breathlessly replied. He gunned his engine and stayed on the speedsters' tail.

/////

Boost and Snot Rod happened to zoom past Jack at the same time. "Got 'em. Commencing pursuit." The muscle car revved his engine and peeled off after the pair.

_Base of Willy's Butte_

The Bell chopper tried to lift himself into an upright position, but fell down again. His rotor blades went limp as he resigns himself to waiting for some passerby to give a tire.

_Exterior of Manifold Tunnel, Southern Exit_

The first response units arrive at the scene of the cave-in; a Pontiac GTO highway patrol, a Hummer H2 Search and Rescue, and a Ford Econoline ambulance. The Pontiac begins to unroll police tape to set up a perimeter, while the Hummer shifts the boulders aside.

_Behind Ramone's House of Body Art, Radiator Springs_

Red turned off his fire hose and stood back to admire his rose bush in front of Ramone and Flo's cottage to the side of the paint shop. Ever since Radiator Springs returned to the map, he had been making an effort to grow more of his beloved flowers to adorn the lampposts and sidewalks. He was proud of his work, and when his plants were in full bloom, they bathed the town in a carpet of beautiful colours.

He swatted at a VW bug that rested on a rose petal. Ramone came out of the front door, yawning sleepily. He stretched on his pneumatic axles and grinned at the firetruck.

"Heeey...good morning, _Rojo_! Whaddya think of my look, eehh...?" he greeted Red, as he displayed his latest artwork on his side panel.

Red gave an appreciative nod and bashfully returned to watering the thorny red flowers.

"_Ay_, I'm going to miss Lightning and Doc, they should be leaving about now. _Vamos_!" cried the Impala as he hurried to Flo's cafe next door. Red was about to turn to follow him when he heard a noise from behind the house. He slowly turned around and stood there for a few seconds, watching.

"Yo, whatchoo waitin' for, man? C'mon!"

Red turned back to see the lowrider waiting for him. He consoled himself he must be imagining things, and reversed to accompany the Latino to the diner to see the racer and town doctor off.

The Lada watched the departing firetruck and custom-car from behind a stack of tires. He supposed the townspeople looked friendly enough, he would wait here for a few more minutes to gather his courage, before making his way over to the opposite diner. He'll have some breakfast and chat with the locals before asking them to help the heli out. First things first... after all, he was _starving_ for pancakes. The brown sedan saw the purple lowrider stop to give a waiting green 50s showcar a peck on the cheek, before melting back into the shadows.

**7:59:57...7:59:58...7:59:59...8:00:00**

Hope you enjoyed this installment. I had to watch some scenes from the movie (especially the map from the 'Our Town' sequence) to get a general feel of the geographical locations of the various landmarks. And yes, Kingpin is a spoof on Kingsman, and it was briefly seen on one of the highway exit signboards at the beginning of the 'Life is a Highway' sequence. If you liked this chapter, please let me know by dropping me a comment. You, the audience, are the reason why I keep writing this. And tune in next time for the third hour of the longest day of Radiator Springs, when Jack Bauer finally comes to town!**  
**


End file.
